


Everything (Not) True

by out_there



Category: Sports Night
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-31
Updated: 2005-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-15 05:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things that didn't happen are as important as the things that did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything (Not) True

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of SN ficlets written from [](http://veronamay.livejournal.com/profile)[**veronamay**](http://veronamay.livejournal.com/)'s [first lines](http://www.livejournal.com/users/veronamay/202371.html). Some are connected but most aren't. Beta'd by the adorable [](http://mireille719.livejournal.com/profile)[**mireille719**](http://mireille719.livejournal.com/).

It's not too bad at first. When Dan first notices his attraction to Casey, it's not too bad. A few furtive looks, a few harmless fantasies; an extra something to look forward to each day. It's a secret thrill to sit beside Casey in rundown meetings, watching out of the corner of his eye, watching Casey smile and laugh and frown; watching the way his jaw sets when he argues, the way his throat moves when he swallows. But it's still just an attraction, nothing more.

It's not until months later, in the middle of a hot Dallas day when the air-conditioner's broken down, that he realizes it's more than that. He watches the sweat drench Casey's t-shirt, clinging to his arms and chest and stomach, and indulges his imagination, picturing Casey sweaty and naked, the slick slide of gleaming skin. He can almost feel the weight of Casey moving on top of him, hear the ragged sound of Casey's breathing as he comes. The softer snores as Casey settles into sleep.

He's dragged out of his daydream by Casey's phone ringing. It's Lisa, reminding Casey that he needs to pick up the dry-cleaning today. Casey makes a quick excuse and gets off the phone, then heads out into the day's heat. Watching him go, Dan has the sudden realization that he wants more than just sex.

He considers it a crush from then on. Something a little childish, a little immature. Like hero-worship with sex thrown in, except Casey's no hero. He's good at what he does, and he looks damn good doing it, but he isn't a hero. Casey's petty and childish, self-involved and judgmental, occasionally callous of other people's feelings and generally oblivious to the hurt he causes.

But despite that, he's a good guy and that probably why Dan's feelings don't disappear. The attraction and the admiration seem to keep growing, right through Dallas and all the way to New York.

When Casey and Lisa separate, Casey gets a new place but spends more nights at Dan's apartment. Dan tries not to crow about it. He hates himself just a little for being glad about the news; feels guilty for knowing how wrong Lisa was for Casey and for never helping Casey make it work. To make up for it, he makes sure Casey doesn't drink too much too often, and he's always around to listen to Casey when he does.

So while Casey gets divorced, Dan gets six months of Casey staying over at his place, bitching Lisa out as Dan stays silent on the matter. He doesn't really mind, and when he does mind, the guilt keeps him there. It's during one of Casey's many tirades against wedding vows and till death do we part that Dan has another realization. That this, whatever this is with Casey, is a lot deeper than just a crush. That if it was just a crush, he would have spent at least a couple of nights in the last few months flirting with girls in bars. Instead, he hasn't got laid since Casey slept in his marriage bed.

It unnerves him. It's disconcerting that he so easily pushed his life aside because Casey needed him. What's worse is that he knows he'd do it again; that if Casey needed him, he'd be there, every time.

Dan consoles himself with the thought that they're good friends, that Casey would do the same for him. That rationale works up until Rebecca, the only woman to ever make him completely forget about Casey McCall. Then Casey makes his lack of support clear. On the other hand, Casey's there when Rebecca leaves that last time, and Dan's sure that has to count for something.

He helps Casey go after Dana, because it's what Casey wants, regardless of the fact that Dana won't make him happy. He spends ninety days indulging Casey's ridiculous fears about asking her out, gives Casey the encouragement he's obviously fishing for and Dana still manages to screw it up.

Somewhere around here, he snaps. He's not sure when it happens, but it does. He gets sick of pampering Casey's ego, gets sick of hearing the daily ins and outs of the Casey-and-Dana Show, gets sick of half of his job revolving around their on-again, off-again flirtation. It's also around this time that he starts seeing Abby, but he doubts one thing has anything to do with the other.

He knows exactly when Casey discovers something's wrong. It's half an hour into the second round of Draft Day 2000.

Casey knows something's wrong, but he never understood what it was. It wasn't the money. It wasn't the golf game. It wasn't even being on the list, not really. It was that feeling of constantly bending to Casey's wishes; that Casey liked Draft Day so he should be enthusiastic too. That Casey got on the list, so he should be pleased and supportive. That whatever he felt for Casey should be bottled up and pushed down, should be hidden and covered and concealed, all for fear of making Casey uncomfortable.

It makes him bitter and angry. Frustrated that he can't have what he wants, especially because he knows there's nothing he can do to get it. He feels like a three year old, stamping his foot and pointing at his favorite toy stuck high on the shelf.

But embarrassing Casey doesn't make it any better. There's a moment of vicious pleasure, of seeing the panic and betrayal in Casey's eyes, and then he's just sorry. Sorry to hurt Casey, sorry to insult Casey. Sorry to see that pained expression and even sorrier to see the distance in his gaze.

So Dan apologizes. Again and again. He apologizes for something he can't explain, for something that barely makes sense, even to him. Eventually, Casey forgives him. Dan doesn't explain why he needs Casey so badly, but Casey doesn't really ask, either. It's easier to accept the forgiveness and let Casey believe whatever he wants.

It's easier to pretend he doesn't feel the way he does. And he's sure, if he just tries a bit harder this time, he can do it.

***

You say you've no time for a drink. Casey gives you a weird look and you consider arguing it with him, but in the end, it's just not worth it. Casey can be too damn stubborn for his own good.

You grab your coat and head down to Anthony's with Dan and Natalie. Casey's a few steps behind you, shadowing you all the way to the table. Then he sits down, and you know he didn't invite you out just for a drink.

"Dana, we need to talk."

You swallow a mouthful of beer, straight from the bottle. "Shoot."

"Sometimes, people work together and they develop feelings for each other. And it isn't practical and it isn't logical, but that's the way you feel. So you act on it, even though you know it's going to end in disaster," he says nervously.

"Casey, what are we talking about?"

"I'm trying to tell you how I feel." Casey grimaces. "It's not going very well."

"Not really, no." Leaning across the table, you take his hand and tell him gently, "I'm seeing Calvin after the show."

He shoots a slightly panicked look over to Dan, obviously needing the moral support. "That's why I wanted to tell you now."

You try not to wince. The last thing you wanted to hear tonight was a declaration from Casey. He has a gift when it comes to complicating your life. "Tell me what?"

He works his jaw for a moment. "I'm seeing Dan after the show."

"You saw him through the show--" The quick reply dies on your tongue as you notice the embarrassed expression on Casey's face. "You're seeing Dan? The same way I'm seeing Calvin?"

"Probably not the *same*, but close enough."

"And you--" This needs to be handled with a bit of caution. You clear your throat and try again. "And you wanted me to know?"

Casey stares at the table top. "I wanted you to be aware of it."

"Okay," you say slowly.

"There are penalties for not sharing around here. And this is a big thing not to share."

"And you thought honesty was the best policy?"

He shrugs. "Something like that."

"Okay then. Well, now I'm aware," you pause and check your watch, "but I have to meet Calvin in ten minutes, so I'm leaving now."

Casey nods, but he looks a few shades paler than usual.

Standing up, you lean over and rest a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine, Casey. A bit strange, but fine. Really."

"Yeah?" He looks up at you, the worry and concern clear in his eyes. For a moment, you remember exactly why you used to think he was what you wanted.

"Yeah," you say and leave. You pause at the door and glance back, watching him sit with Dan; just a couple of guys talking over a couple of beers, and it's easy to see how you missed this.

***

They filed into the studio obediently, all young students sporting dreadlocks, piercings, absurd clothing choices in leather and ragged cotton. Casey tried to repress a shudder. "Interns?"

Jeremy nodded gravely. "Interns."

"Is it my imagination," Casey said as he stirred his coffee, "or do they get less professional every year?"

"Less professional."

"Thought so."

They stood there in careful, slightly horrified silence for a few moments. "So some of these people," Jeremy said with a general wave in the direction of the not-old-enough-to-drink crowd, "are going to be preparing our shot sheets?"

"They'll certainly try."

Jeremy grimaced. "The next few weeks are going to be fun, huh?"

"Hmmm."

"What?"

Casey stared across the room. "You see the girl with the pink hair?" Jeremy followed Casey's gaze, seeing the blonde with pink streaks and a rather low-cut top. She was leaning forward, talking to a guy in a red shirt. "That's Dan over there, right?"

Jeremy blinked and saw that the red-shirt guy was, in fact, Dan. "Yes."

"Hitting on someone who remembers the 80s as cartoons and elementary school?"

"I think so." As they watched, Dan stepped closer to the girl and grinned his most flirtatious grin. "This isn't good, is it?"

Casey sighed. "Time for Dan patrol."

"Dan patrol?"

"To keep him away from the interns." Casey groaned and threw his empty cup into the bin. "I hate Intern Season."

***

Here we are, yet another night spent staring at everything but each other, both of us knowing that everything's changed now, neither of us wanting to talk about why. I get it, I really do. This isn't some girl you've picked up in a bar; this isn't simple. Not that picking up girls in bars is simple for you anyway, Casey.

I know the drill. You've got a kid; we've both got careers. I know all the reasons you'll point out for why this shouldn't happen, can't happen. I know the reasons you won't say, too.

You won't say that you're really not that comfortable with the idea that you're not that straight. You won't say that you spent months (or is it years now?) chasing Dana and that if you wanted to date someone who needed therapy, you'd be seeing her.

I get it. I understand why you're avoiding my eyes and I know how you look when you're trying to avoid saying something unpleasant, regardless of how much it needs to be said. But it does need to be said, Casey, and I'll be damned if I say it first.

***

"One day I reached into my pocket in the midst of a London crush and found it empty. It was a sudden moment of clarity," Calvin says, sipping his vodka and tonic.

"Why?"

"I thought my wallet was in there."

Dana raises an eyebrow. "Your moment of clarity was having someone pickpocket you in London?"

He shrugs. "My wallet was back in my hotel room."

"So it wasn't stolen," Dana says, reaching for more peanuts from the bar. "How did this let you make something big smaller?"

"I filled up the pockets."

***

Right from the start, it had always been the two of them against the world. Casey and Dana, old college friends, both struggling to be taken seriously in new jobs. Of course, Dana did that through getting her Masters, while Casey did it by working hard at his script and schmoozing with the bosses. But still, it was them against the world.

Then there was Lone Star, and Danny joined the ranks. It became the three of them fighting against a less-than-ideal timeslot and a fairly small audience. Somewhere during the Lone Star years, Natalie joined the team too.

Before they even got to New York, Isaac made it clear that he was part of the group, too. He wanted Dan and Casey, he wanted Dana, but he also fought for Natalie, because they were a team. And they were a team that kept growing, first with Kim and Elliot, then Dave, Will and Chris. The last one to join was Jeremy.

But they were a team, a group, a small army fighting ESPN and Fox -- and sometimes their own network -- to do the best show they could. But now CSC's being sold, and their beloved show will probably be sold for scrap, and it doesn't feel like it's them against the world. It's the world against them, and that makes all the difference.

***

The kid looked like a fucking twink. Blond hair, tight tank top, coy smile and a possibly fake ID. The kid isn't his usual type, but Dan's type tends to wear suits and ties, and is currently reciting tonight's script from a teleprompter. He's also straight, but Dan doesn't want to dwell on that.

Since his type wasn't available, Dan went for the twink -- a kid too interested in fashion and sex to care about sports or sports anchors. Of course, that's exactly what Dan was looking for, so he's not complaining. Especially not when the twink in question is on his knees sucking Dan's cock.

Dan runs a hand through the artfully streaked blond hair and grins at the kid. The kid's pretty good at this, but he's not quite good enough to stop Dan from being distracted. Even in the shady bathroom of a relatively unknown club, Dan's well aware of his own situation.

Semi-public sex isn't a good idea but taking someone home would be worse. So he compromises and keeps it discreet, keeps himself quiet, makes sure that the guys he sleeps with don't have a fucking clue who he is. Makes sure the guys who know his face never know about his personal life.

He closes his eyes, hearing his breath catch as the kid caresses his balls. He shouldn't be thinking this much, but this isn't mind-blowing sex. This is relief, pure and simple. This type of sex doesn't end in a rollercoaster orgasm, riding higher and higher and then screaming on that last plummet down. These orgasms are more like the TiltaWhirl; you're relieved just to get off and you walk away feeling vaguely nauseated.

But a ride's a ride, and a blowjob's always a good thing, even if it comes from a fucking twink.

***

"'Kiss' is a four letter word."

Dan rolls his eyes at the obvious comment. "I know that."

"I'm just saying," Casey says pointedly, tapping a finger on the scrabble board, "'Kiss' is a four letter word."

Looking over the range of mostly useless letters, Dan wonders why he's playing in the first place. Then he remembers. It's Tuesday and there's nothing better to do. "I don't have a K."

"But you have the extra S, right?"

Dan's seen the double word score sitting where the second S belongs, but it doesn't change his range of letters. "But no K."

"Fine," Casey says, settling down into his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, Dan can see Casey fidgeting while he waits for Dan's turn. "I have a K."

Dan doesn't look up. "Good for you."

"You could use it," Casey offers casually, "if you want."

He watches Casey through narrowed eyes. "Why?"

Casey shrugs and then finally admits, "You have the M that I want."

"You are such a cheat," Dan replies evenly, settling his letters on the board and spelling out 'Miss'.

Casey frowns as he adds that score to the tally. "I was hoping you wouldn't use that."

***

So Dan spends a few weeks trying harder. They somehow blur into a few months of trying harder, and before he knows it, the holiday season has come and gone. Apart from a few last desperate attempts at flirting, the Dana-and-Casey show seems to have been cancelled, which makes trying harder a lot easier.

It's easier to be supportive when he doesn't have to meet Casey's current love interest. He can listen to dating stories and dissect telephone conversations with something approaching objectivity as long as he doesn't have to watch Casey flirting. It's not because Casey flirts badly. Casey flirts very well, but Casey doesn't flirt with him.

So Dan sees Abby regularly, and he talks about things he doesn't want to talk about, and he gives up dating for a little while. He doesn't want to go on dates where he sits there wishing the random girl was Rebecca. He doesn't want to call Rebecca because he has a strong suspicion he'll end up sitting there, thinking of Casey.

He goes to a few clubs that he shouldn't but he's always careful, always cautious, always makes sure that those blowjobs remain safely anonymous. He doesn't bring any guys back to his place because that would be stupid. He doesn't go back to theirs because he'd instinctively expect pictures of Charlie on the walls. In the end, it just seems like too much bother, so he gives up on the clubs too.

After he's given up on the clubs, and dating, and Rebecca, he finds Casey standing at his door. It seems oddly appropriate, because he gave up on Casey years ago.

"So," Casey says, as if they were in the middle of a conversation, "Natalie pointed out that I'm not very observant."

Dan smiles, but he's already wishing that Natalie would stop trying to run Dana's love life. "You don't say."

Casey takes that as an invitation to step inside. "I think she's right. I don't notice some of the stuff that goes on around here."

Closing the door behind him, Dan leans against the solid wood. "What did she say?"

"That I wouldn't know if someone was in love with me." Casey starts to walk to the couch, but stops when Dan doesn't move. He walks back to Dan. "That I've been blind."

A mirthless chuckle escapes before Dan can stop it. "What mysterious sign have you missed? Not to rain on your parade or anything, but I don't think Dana's in love with you."

"I'm just saying," Casey says quietly, "I've been kind of blind."

Dan focuses on a spot just over Casey's right shoulder because he's far too tired to fake the enthusiasm and Casey's standing close enough that even he'll see the bitterness. "And on the strength of Natalie's say so, you're going to ask Dana out again?"

"No." Casey takes another step closer and Dan keeps his gaze steadily on his own cream wall. Then, Casey slides a hand along Dan's arm. "I've been blind. Right, Danny?"

Dan closes his eyes, not sure what to say. He knows the Dan-and-Casey script off by heart, but these lines are straight out of the Dana-and-Casey Show. He's a lousy understudy. "Dana's not..."

"But you are," Casey says slowly, certainly. Dan feels grated raw, wide open and vulnerable, and it's unfair that Casey can do this with a handful of words and a gentle smile. Dan's tried as hard as he could, he's fought this thing until it wasn't a crush or an attraction; until it was a need running through his veins, an itch under his skin that no pretty boy in the bathroom of some club could touch. It isn't fair that Casey can just call him on it, like it was any other secret. "Danny?"

"So what?" Even his voice sounds small and about to break. And all Dan wants to do is run.

"So," Casey says, leaning in, "I've been blind." Then the unthinkable happens, the impossible, the ridiculous. Casey kisses him. Casey's lips on his, and Casey's hand on his arm, and something like this needs a word far more complex than kiss to describe it. But Dan doesn't have the extra words, he just has Casey in his arms, and he's more than happy with that deal.


End file.
